


The State of Cold

by WingGuardian



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Future NC17, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingGuardian/pseuds/WingGuardian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written as a response to a Kink Meme prompt about Jack's body temperature affecting his relationships, The State of Cold has grown into a world of its own where Jack experiences an incredible change in his natural state of cold; forced upon him by influences he cannot find the origin of. </p><p>Now unable to touch anyone without hurting them, Jack finds himself pursued by an old power, a strength beyond anything the boy could ever be prepared for. </p><p>Someone is determined to have Jack, and will not let the budding love between Jack and Bunny stop him from attaining what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cold Enough to Hurt

This is slow build, but bound to be porny fic.

Written for this prompt on the RotG kinkmeme:   
**“Jack’s body temperature doesn’t get any warmer, even during sex. He’s alive, but not on the sense like North or Bunny or even Jamie. So having a physical relationship for him is difficult.**  
 **Just a story where Jack’s body temperature (or there lack of) gets in the way of touching his lover and either they find a way around it or decide they don’t need it to make each other feel good.**  
 **(I don’t really care about the sex aspect, in all honesty, but Jack’s feelings and his partner’s feelings (: Preferably Bunny, but could be anyone, in all honesty)” and then it went on a wild tangent of 30-some pages of meandering thoughts not even close to hitting the main plot yet. This will be a long one.**

Rating: PG-13 until the NC17 parts happen. Notice will be given!  
Warnings: Angst, feels, confusion, inter-species sex. Slow build.  
Pairing: Bunny/Jack: aka, JackRabbit.  
Chapters: 1/??

* * *

Chapter 1:

 

When Jack breathes ice crackles on the surface of flowers and rocks, growing in ferns over the leaves of plants as well as the bricks of buildings. His very touch is enough to chill a fever and cool soup to tepidness. Asking him to carry a freshly baked pie is just as well as asking that it be set outside in the snow for an hour. It is not intentional mischievousness or a trick pulled by the spirit for a laugh, it was a simple fact of his form. Jack Frost makes things cold.

North calls to Jack late on New Year’s eve, through the pull of another, less than year after the defeat of Pitch Black, at the end of a long day.

Before he received North’s summons, Jack is at his pond. Burgess had sprung up beside it years and years ago, and Jack would say that it is home. He is now sitting on the branch of a tree, watching the figures of familiar children skate across the surface.

He smiles fondly down at them, his eyes following in particular the small form of Jamie Bennett as he laughingly chases his friends around. The boy has gotten taller in the past year, as has most of his schoolmates, and with the passage of time the encounter with Pitch faded from them. It was not that they stopped believing, no, if they look up to his tree, they will see Jack Frost watching over them, ensuring that the ice beneath their feet is strong as rock and unbreakable, but they never think to. They know he is there, and that belief is enough.

It might be painful, watching the children play without him, but Jack tries not to allow that feeling to soak. His life now, as a Guardian, is to protect them and their smiles. There is no time to be sad, or mourn. He doesn’t have the time to build a castle of his own in the tundra, or a fortress of ice in the mountains; he simply has to be here, beneath the ever silent moon, where he can watch over his first believers.

Jack sighs, and a cold wind blows flurries of snow in crisscrosses over the pond. Above him the sky begins to darken. Jack hears Jamie laughing and crying out _“Woah!”_ as his skates slip on the new snow, and Cupcake, covered in pink and purple, bowls into two dark-skinned boys and they topple over in a confused heap.

Jack tips his head back and laughs along with them. No one is hurt, and friends help friends to stand again, and off they go, enjoying the burst of speed given to them by an edging wind.

Having believers, being visible to them, has affected Jack’s abilities. He is paler than ever, and it is becoming harder to control the snow he brings. At first Jack believed it was because he was growing stronger—the others got their strength from their believers, so the spirit thought the same was happening to him. Instead, he has begun to think he is becoming weaker.

One hand is raised up to be inspected by the turquoise of his eyes, and Jack sees his fingers coated in frost, a deep blue-purple tint on the ends of them under his nails. It doesn’t hurt, and his dexterity isn’t affected, but it is curious to him. Even when he’d been born as Jack Frost, he’d never looked so pale he was blue, except perhaps under his eyes.

 _Is it because I only have a few believers?_ He muses to himself. There are many questions he has about being a Guardian. After all, he’d not been powerless beforehand, but just a force of nature. Now that he is a Guardian, how much of his strength comes from his birthright, and how much from his new title? Will he lose the strength he was born with because now he has to rely on believers giving him power?

_Pitch had said…_

Absently, Jack taps the tip of his shepherd’s crook against the base of the tree and ice cascades down the bark in swirling twists of intricate patterns, and flies across the ice as a wet sheen, another layer on top of many. Unfortunately, this new layer of ice catches around the blades of many skates, and children fall with cries to their hands and knees, trapped in the ice.

“Oh no!”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m stuck!”

Jack doesn’t really hear the confused cries of the children stuck in the ice, concerned calls of: _“Take off your boots!” “Undo the laces!”_ Until one child cries out, “ _Jack! Jack Frost! We’re stuck!”_ With a small gasp, the spirit-branded-Guardian wakes from his contemplations, and drops from his tree.

He slips across the ice, the feeling on his feet like the skimming of a finger over a cool puddle of water, until he is standing amongst the children. He affixes an exaggerated grin on his face.

“Whoops.”

Cupcake scowls up at him from where she sits on the ice, trying to jerk her boots free after taking them off. He rubs the back of his head as Jamie picks his way over to him in rapidly soaking socks.

“Everyone’s caught, Jack,” He explains, and Jack can see he had a new tooth where the one he’d lost in the sofa-collision had been. He probably has a bunch of new teeth. Jack shrugs broadly, and taps the ground with his staff again.

“I said, ‘Whoops’. Didn’t mean it!” He laughs, and the newest layer of ice melts away, allowing everyone to pull their skates free. Now though, there was water all over the surface of the ice, and that would not make safe skating.

“Aw, man, now we’re going to have to stop,” One of the boys moans, slinging his skates over his shoulder. He then shivers, freezing water waving over his feet. Jack grimaces and makes a helpless gesture.

“It’s okay—” Jamie reassures Jack and his friends with their soaking wet socks and chittering teeth. “I was getting really cold anyways. And—and it’ll be dark soon. We should go home.” There’s a general agreement, though it’s more reluctant than anything. Jack frowns, and his eyebrows twist up, and he holds out his hands to the side.

“I can fix this! If you step off the ice I can freeze the water and you can skate some more!” He offers, looking between the children.

“M-Maybe another time?” Someone says. Jack didn’t catch his name, but his thick-rimmed glasses have fogged up and his cheeks and nose are bright red. “My mom wants me home early a-anyways…”

Jack doesn’t try to stop them as the kids file off the ice to the piles of snow boots and extra coats and scarves waiting off to the side. He wants to protest, but as they move away from him a feeling of weakness starts to steal into his limbs, and he cannot bring himself to say anything. Jamie waits till all his friends are off the ice and waiting for him before he smiles up at Jack.

“We’ll play again soon, right, Jack?” His smile is bright and hopeful. “You’ll bring us more snow days wont you?”

“Ha ha, of course. Snow days are my specialty.” Jack declares proudly, beaming at the boy who had been the _last light_. Jamie makes a happy gesture, his body curling in before he lunges the foot or so between them and circles Jack’s thin body with his arms.

“I’ll see you again soon, right?” The spirit inhales sharply, never used to being grabbed, never used to being held by anyone, and all the warmth and love he has for this child floods him.

“Any time you want to, Jamie. Just call my name into the wind.” He wraps his arms in turn around Jamie, kneeling so he could place his chin atop the boys head, his heart aching to simply hold onto this boy who had given him so much hope—

“Ow, Jack! That hurts!” Jamie tugs sharply out of Jack’s arms, slipping on the ice backwards in his hurry and falling down with an _‘Oof!’_. Jack pulls his arms and staff behind his back instantly, eyes wide and fear screeching up his spine.

 _“What hurts?”_ He asks hoarsely.

“You’re so cold,” Jamie replies softly. “It hurts.” A wounded look takes over Jamie’s features, and Jack steps back. “It never hurt before—Jack? Are you okay?”

“I’m—I’m fine, Jamie, I—guess I’ve just gotten colder,” He runs a hand through his hair, shaking a glaze of frost and icicles free. The sky grows darker in response to his turmoil. Jack concentrates inward as Jamie gets up, his eyes glued to the spirit who’s trying to control his temperature flux without a manual.

  
He’s never hurt Jamie before, and he can remember protecting many a bare-foot against the cold and frostbite less than a year ago. He’s never _made_ someone cold-- _except Baby Tooth--_ when they touched him. Then again, it’s only been recently that anyone has actually been able to touch him, so, so who knows? Jack can count the number of humans and spirits that have every connected with his skin on one hand. He doesn’t think any of them were hurt—and one was Jamie—

“Jack?”

“I, uh—” Jack takes a deep breath. “Your friends are calling you. I guess you should… go home.” His fingers curl tighter around his staff, and a crawl of ice climbs over his wrist and elbow. The boy nods slowly, cogs turning and urging that there might be something wrong with the spirit. Still, he turns away, moving carefully on the slick ice towards the lingering group of shivering children. Jack doesn’t listen to them as they go, turning away, not wanting to see them leave his pond.

Voices fading away, taken by the wind, Jack is alone again. Aside from the faint sounds of the occasional car in the distance, there is silence all around him. He can hear every snowflake as it touches the ground, the sound of a light _ping_ in his ears; and every icicle as it fell. The pond and the trees around it are alive with winter. It is comforting, though only because it is so familiar. Jack jumps lightly up into his tree again and curls up, mind lost to thought on frost-nipped noses and being painfully cold to touch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a party. It would be lovely, were it not so cold.

Jack has settled into a trance. Staring blankly up into the canopy of the trees, where he can easily see the falling snow between the leaves. It is dark out, now, with the sun setting early, but still too early for Sandman’s dreamsand to come, and the only light is a quarter-moon, but that doesn’t restrict Jack’s vision any. He can count the snowflakes if he wishes to. They come to him, falling in his mere presence. A light layer of white covers his body, from blue-tipped toes to the crown of his head.

Jack curls tighter around his staff where it lays across his lap, and closes his eyes. _Tomorrow_ , he promises himself, _Tomorrow I will have more believers._ _I will be stronger._

Darkness overcomes his senses, numbing and cool, sleep creeping into his body, dreams waiting for him. In darkness he rests for a while.

_“Squeak, squeak—”_

Jack startles, eyes opening and his body uncurling sharply. His eyes cast about for a threat in the shadows. What he sees instead is a small bird, fluttering about a foot away, watching him with wide eyes.

“Wha—buh—Baby Tooth?” Jack sighs, expelling some of his worry and relaxing against the trunk of the tree. She squeaks at him rapidly, her small hands waving around. “Woah, hold on there, I can’t understand what you’re saying.” He smiles and holds out a hand for the little fairy-bird to land in. “Slow down there.”

Baby Tooth drops into his hand. Her feet have only touched his skin for a second before she lets out a high-pitched trill of alarm and shoots up again. She wraps her arms around herself and sneezes, looking at him with hurt eyes. A thin layer of ice had covered his palm at her touch, and Jack yanks his hand away and shoves it under his arm in horror. His eyebrows twist together and his gaze drops. Frost ices over his cheeks in shame.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers. “I didn’t think that would happen.” She flutters close and says _something_ in her high voice that sounds forgiving.

He doesn’t look at her. “What did you need, Baby Tooth?” Jack asks instead. Her twitters in response don’t mean much to him, but he gets the feeling she wants him to come with her by the way her tiny hands grasp the sleeve of his hoodie and tug. He barely feels the fabric move, but he looks at her again.

“Come with you?” She nods, still chattering at him. Jack really wonders at what she could be saying so much of. Jack places both feet on the branch and slowly stands, shifting his staff into his left hand.

“Okay. Lead the way.”

With a smile and a twirl Baby Tooth shoots up into the sky. Jack follows her, floating on the wind. When she assures herself he is behind her, Baby Tooth points north, and shoots off. Jack follows, easily keeping pace as the wind catches around his staff and throws him through the sky. Until knowing the feeling of having someone see him, Jack had always loved riding in the wind best of anything. Being free, going where he pleased and bringing fun with him—it was incredible.

But now that he has Jamie, and now that he has Sophie, and Cupcake the other children, well, Jack felt _freest_ when flying, but _happiest_ with them, no matter whether they were paying attention to him or not.

Following Baby Tooth under the quarter moon, Jack cannot help but feel slightly apprehensive. Something is not quite right, but he can’t figure out what exactly. They soar farther and farther, leaving the American border, passing over Canada at incredible speeds. The air here is freezing—but not to Jack. As he passes he sweeps his staff back and forth, conjuring snow-laden clouds beneath him and the Baby Tooth and he knew that they would burst with snow with a thought, covering Toronto with deep drifts and spread further out. There will be snow days in every town in a hundred mile radius of their flight.

He laughs at the thought. Creating snow days being one of his favorite things to do for the children, and step one in the master plan to bring _fun_ to everyone in the world. Even if they don’t believe in him yet. They will someday.

Canada is far behind them now, and Baby Tooth sends him a short chattering question. He doesn’t understand it, but she probably wants to know if he is okay still

“I’m fine! We’re going to North’s place, aren’t we?” He calls back over the wind carrying him. She nods rapidly. Chitter, chatter. He grins at her, twists his body into a corkscrew and zooms out ahead of her with a boisterous laugh that carries all around them. “I knew it! You can ride in my hoodie if you want, Baby Tooth!” He coasts on his back, lying on his staff, holding it behind his back, smiling brightly at the little fairy, a touch of caution in his eyes.

Chirp, chirp. She catches up, he slows down, and her small hands and feet tickle just a little as she catches onto his hoodie and crawls over his belly into the pouch. Jack lets out a sigh; she isn’t hurt by his cold when just touching his clothes, it seems. That is a huge relief. Jack stays on his back, letting the wind carry them over the ocean towards the North Pole.

Tiny islands dot the ocean, places uninhabited. Jack imagines whales and dolphins breaking the surface of the ocean, far below, blowing streams of water into the sky and leaping about in play. That doesn’t happen of course, no, the water is too cold, and the ocean is empty but for the glaciers dotting the freezing water.

He can feel when they pass into the pole. Not only is the ocean replaced with mountains of beautiful snow and ice, but the wind he rides carries a nearly imperceptible strain of warmth on it. Music and power and the jingle of bells. The wind here gusts and bellows like the breath of powerful reindeer beating impatiently at their pens. Jack can almost see the yeti hard at work rebuilding the launchpad and improving harnesses for the next Christmas.

He curls one arm protectively over his middle, careful not to press down, just to make sure Baby Tooth doesn’t fall out or gets hurt by his cold when he flips over. North’s stronghold is just ahead, and Jack’s apprehension increases. He hasn’t been back since they all parted ways after the battle with Pitch. There was so much to do, so much that had to be fixed, and beautiful dreams or no, children around the world needed comfort from the Guardians. They needed to be given belief again.

There hadn’t been time to celebrate. No one had time to tell Jack what to do next. He had to figure that out himself, and not knowing how to start, had gone home, eager to protect and cherish his first believers. He hadn’t thought he would see them again, maybe not ever—he thought he’d be busy trying to gain new believers—but being a Guardian was scary and huge and new, and having to immediately leave the company of his fellows without so much as an Employee Handbook had dampened some of that pride.

Perhaps that’s why he was being brought here now? To finally be told what to do next. How to gain new believers and keep the ones he has. It seemed daunting, without the support of the other Guardians. Alone, again, Jack had done what he knew how to do, which, he thought sadly, wasn’t that much good.

He steels himself. Maybe that would change today. No more being afraid of fading if he left his only believers alone for the season. No more being alone.

Surely.

—-

Jack lands outside what could be considered the front door. Baby Tooth crawls out from inside the pouch of his hoodie and hovers by his shoulder. He shrugs at her and knocks on the door. Even outside he can hear the pounding of music and the deep throbbing of drums. His brow crinkles and he purses his lips suspiciously at the door. It almost sounds like there’s a party going on in there. He knocks again.

Then he waits; because what else can he do? He waits longer, considering sending a sleuth of ice between the cracks of the door. Before he gets too frustrated, the door swings outward sharply, and it is three hundred years of practiced acrobatics and nimbleness that allows Jack to dodge by jumping into the wind. Baby Tooth flits just out of the way with a loud squeak.

A gray-ish colored yeti stands in the doorway, grunting in question. Jack steps down off the wind he lept into and waves.

“Hey Phil,” The yeti grunts something at him, eyes narrowing questioningly.

“Hey! It’s not like that!” He assured. “I’m here _on invitation_.” He points to Baby Tooth, who nods emphatically. Phil stands in the way for a moment longer. An unmovable mountain. Jack ducks his head down and shrugs.

“I don’t know why!”

Phil snorts, and steps aside. He’s pleased to see the spirit, but Jack doesn’t know it. There may or may not be a type of smile on the hairy creature’s face—Jack cannot tell with them. Behind Phil a small crowd of elves peer curiously around the yeti’s furry legs, curious to the guest. When they see it’s Jack, two of them scatter, remembering the bite of his ice as it stopped them cold. He chuckles and steps past the yeti.

“Thanks, big guy,” Jack waves at him and wanders into the entry way. He was right about it being drums. Music is being played from floors above, and there are so many voices mingling with the trumpeting of the elves and the jingling of bells. Baby Tooth shoots out ahead, fluttering up to the top level.

“Ah—” Jack huffs, curiosity piqued and leaps nimbly floor to floor—bouncing off a wooden outcropping, off a red and orange mechanical bird and lightly tapping the globe till he can touch his toes down onto the wide railing of the top level. The sight that greets him is overwhelming, and loud. Elves everywhere, blowing into trumpets and tubas and slapping cymbals together. They bounce off each other now and then and ruin the tempo, but for the most part that seems to be going unnoticed.

There is a crowd. Yeti mingle, but there aren’t many of them—there isn’t room. Spirits and legends stand about, or float about, more than Jack has ever seen in one place (the most being three, four including himself, five including Pitch). His gaze darts around at them all. He doesn’t know half of them—but there’s the Leprechaun, the Groundhog, Cupid—and in another group are five very short creatures that are all brown—from hair to toe to eye, someone who looks almost like a human and a deer (goat?) merged, and an older, taller, uglier version of North’s elves with long scraggly beards.

A giant snake is curled around the rafters, its massive body undulating in ripples as it moves. Jack can just barely see its head, and notes curiously that there’s a blindfold over its eyes.

He sees tall figures, male and female, in cloths of white and blue and purple and gold draped over their bodies and held together by intricate gold clasps. He doesn’t know them, either. Jack steps off the ledge and onto the vibrating floor. Never one for huge crowds, an ingrained habit of trying to avoid being run through by the unseeing, Jack cannot help but notice everyone else is very nicely dressed, if they’re clothed at all.

He wanders through the small groups, feeling under-dressed and looking for familiar faces. No one pays him any attention yet, caught up in their own conversations. He turns around and around, feeling cramped and discomfited by the noise.

“Jack!” A voice calls easily over the crowd. Jack flinches, but is grateful for the familiar sound, and turns to see North pushing his way past an upright standing, green—turtle?—Jack didn’t know—with a hole in the top of its head that sloshes with water as it is pushed out of the way of North. Jack tips back on his heels and waves his staff a bit in greeting.

“Hey, ah, North. Quite the party you’ve got here,” Jack greets, eyes slipping from the tall and wide figure to the crowd again. Looks like he’s been noticed. A brown creature has its head cocked at him. He grins at it and it looks away, saying something to the Groundhog.

“Yes, is big New Year’s party!” North says in a booming voice, opening his arms as if to show it all off. “Every year I have it, bringing all fellow legends to the Pole for celebrating. You know?” He looks at Jack as if waiting for his approval. Jack opens his mouth and then closes it, his lips twisting.

“No, I don’t know. Every year? I’ve never heard of this party till now.” North totters on his feet, looking mildly confused.

“Well, not _every_ year, but years when we can!” North corrects himself. “We did not think to invite you before—” North falters at Jack’s hurt look, barely disguised by focusing on the drawstrings of his hood instead. “Ah, well—you are Guardian now, and friend! You will be at all parties. Come, come, you must mingle! Not every day there is new Guardian to show off!” He drops a heavy hand onto Jack shoulder and steers the whip-thin spirit towards the fire with a large hand.

Bunny, Toothiana and Sandman are in their own little cluster at the fireplace. The tall Pooka looks like he’d much rather be elsewhere, though the irritation in his eyes could be more his reaction to the glare the Groundhog keeps sending him, than anything. Tooth notices the frost spirit first, thanks to a tugging of her feathers by her fairies.

“Jack!” She calls, fluttering over to him and North excitedly. “You made it!”

“Uh, yeah, though—”

“We’ve been waiting all night for you. I didn’t think you would come when I sent Baby Tooth for you.” She looks all too pleased, as if Jack should have arrived hours ago and now he finally decided to. His expression twists in confusion.

“Hold on there—I didn’t even know about the party till Baby Tooth showed up.” The Tooth Fairy cocks her head, puzzled.

“You didn’t?”

Jack frowns, tossing his staff between his hands and feeling distinctly forgotten.

“Uh, no. So,” He changes the subject. “Who are all these guys?” Sandman floats over to him, and several pictures materialize over his golden head. A four leaf clover, a coiled snake, a vaguely human creature with a pipe-flute, a plate with a square on it and then the pictures start appearing much too quickly to distinguish.

“Really not getting names from that. But thanks, Sandy.” He still smiles lightly at the shorter Guardian and steps around towards Bunny. “Groundhog’s really giving you the stink-eye. You two have another fight?”

The Pooka’s shoulders jut up and down, and he pointedly turns away from the tall rodent.

“He just doesn’t know when to admit he lost.” Bunny huffs. Jack’s brows raise as do his hands.

“I don’t even want to know.” He drops his staff to his shoulder and circles away from the fire, which even at this distance is just this side of uncomfortable.

“So what do we do at these parties?” Jack asks, looking around and up. The giant snake in the rafters is so large that its body trails outside a high up window. He cocks his head at it.

“Careful mate, that blindfold might not be tight enough. You don’t wanna meet the Basilisks eyes.” Jack glanced between the two uncomprehendingly.

“Basilisk?”

No one answers him, so Jack looks away from the giant serpent. An elf wanders over to him with a half-empty mug of eggnog. It’s grinning broadly, a smear of the yellowish drink on a red sleeve. The mug is held up in offering.

“Uh, no, thanks.” He declines. “Yeah, what am I supposed to be doing here?” He asks someone—Tooth, he supposes, because she was the only one he could tell was listening to him now. North has wandered off to greet a unicorn, Bunny is marching up to get in the face of the Groundhog, and Sandy floats by slowly, fast asleep.

“Just mingle! Have fun! Make some new friends, Jack.” She chirps encouragingly. “Oh! New York! Sydney! Hong Kong!” Six fairies buzz immediately by her shoulders, and she shouts out the names of teeth and towns and cities that had to be hit right away. Jack turns from them and goes to find himself a corner to sit in.

So far, aside from the brown creature and the other Guardians, no one has even acknowledged him. It would be depressing, to see all these other spirits in their groups, with their friends, completely ignoring him—if it weren’t so very common.

There is a spot around the corner of the fireplace that is dark, and rather cool, comparatively, and when he moves into it, Jack finds he can still watch the party from there. Pulling up his hood and leaning against the wall, staff in hand, Jack’s light blue gaze follows the Guardians and the spirits he’d never met before curiously, though somehow… his attention kept getting drawn back to Bunny.

Maybe it was because he is moving around so quickly between groups, or perhaps it somehow seems as if he’s gotten taller—which is impossible—or that, out of all the Guardians and alike folk, Jack most wants the Easter Bunny to recognize him as something special.

He isn’t sure that will ever happen.

The party goes on, and Jack sees less and less reason for him to actually be here. No one is talking to him, no one even really noticing him, and North is getting redder in the face by the mug. The yeti must have put something strong in the eggnog, for Jack has only seen the burly spirit drink a couple of them since his arrival; though he must have had a few before then.

With a sigh, Jack acknowledges that he is a much better observer than participant, and this grand get-together is going to end without him having said a word to anyone else; or them to him.

Melancholy spreads from Jack in a visible mist, and the wall behind him crackles with the birth of ice and frost as it spreads from his neck and shoulder-blades up the wood he leans against. The floor beneath his feet becomes sleek and reflective as ice drains from him and grows out from under his toes. Jack barely notices as the temperature of the room drops, how it seems as if a cold wind comes from the chimney and the mostly blocked window above to buffer at the hearty fire and bluster through the gathered immortals and spirits.

He isn’t paying any attention at all, staring into space from beneath his hood.

While Jack doesn’t notice the change in climate, the rest of the party has. All it took is one indignant squawk of: _“Why is it so damn cold in here? Is that—ice?”_ before attention is suddenly on him. Eyes from all around the room find him somehow, following the trails of slowly thawing ice to the slim figure of Jack in the corner.

It is the silence that catches his awareness. Jack comes out of his thoughts when the vibration of voices around him stops, and he cautions a look out from under the blue hood, only to recoil sharply to see so many eyes on him.

“Uh… what?” He asks quietly.

“What in Zeus’ name do you think you’re doing?” A woman demands, tugging her deep purple toga tighter around her curving frame, hunching her shoulders closer to her mane of brown curls. “Do you have any idea how cold you’re making it in here? Trying to ruin our fun, are you?” Jack’s eyes widen, but she goes on. “Who are you anyways?”

“I’m—I—uh—I’m Jack Frost,” He offers weakly.

“ _Jack Frost?_ ” Another voice asks incredulously. It’s a tall man, with blazing orange eyes and a green tint to his otherwise orange hair. “You’re _Jack Frost_? What are you doing here?” That starts a buzz. Voices start up around him, curious faces and disapproving glares shot his way.

Sharp hurt stabs into Jack, and the cold increases—though he doesn’t ask it to, it just happens, until there are icicles hanging from the mantle place despite the flickering fire. Above him he can hear the Basilisk hissing loudly in discomfort.

“Look, I’m here because—I was invited.” He replies quietly, looking to North with wide eyes to fix this. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Is right!” The host of the part assures quickly and loudly. “I invite Jack to party. He is new Guardian after all, he belongs here!” He grins broadly, his jolly demeanor enough to calm Jack some, as well as a few others around.

“ _Him? He’s_ the new Guardian?” The old, bearded dwarf demands in a surly tone.

“That’s right!” Tooth confirms, her wings beating madly as she buzzes closer to Jack. “He saved us all from Pitch, he gave the _last light_ hope when we thought we were done for!” Baby Tooth chitters her agreement, fluttering around Jack’s head. He dared to remove his hood, and step out a few paces from the corner. Tooth is hovering a few feet ahead and above him, and it makes him feel safer, hopeful. Maybe this won’t be a disaster.

There is a rustling of sand, but Jack cannot see what Sandman is saying, can only hope it is appeasing.

“But he’s _Jack Frost_ , what makes him a Guardian?” The same woman in purple demands. “He blows into Greece with his accursed snow and ice and makes a huge mess of everything! Does 1963 mean anything to you, Jack? Or how about 2002?” The dates didn’t mean a whole lot to him, no, but Jack assumes it means he caused trouble again. He ducks back into his corner.

“Hey! Where do you get off? This isn’t your party, mate, it’s Norths! He can invite whoever he feels like! ‘esides, Frostbite’s one of _us_ now and that means he gets a fair go!” Bunny took one long hop into the fray, and that was pretty much the end of it. The woman mutters something in Greek and turns away.

Jack can still feel so many eyes on him—too many eyes—but at least he was being supported by his fellows. After three hundred years of seeing other spirits only in passing, having fleeting confrontations with them and shorter conversations, Jack is surprised they know him so well. Or, at least, well enough to dislike him.

North is certainly satisfied. “There now. We’re all friends here. Come, Jack, out of corner. Mingle and be merry!” He reaches out and grabs Jack’s forearm and drags the silver-haired spirit out of the corner easily. Jack’s surprised cry doesn’t even register.

“I get you started. Here is Kappa. Kappa is coming from the great mountains of Japan.” Jack is placed in front of the tall green turtle-like creature with the hole in its head. Jack sees now that it also has quite the sharp looking beak and tiny, beady black eyes. It smells strongly of wet grass and mud.

“Hi,” Jack says.

“ _Wagahai wa Kappa de aru,_ ” Kappa replies in a sticky sounding voice.

“Uh,” Is Jack’s intelligent response. “What?”

The Kappa cocks its large green head, and a few drops of water spill out before it rights itself. Jack get the impression that the creature’s giving him a very disapproving look now, whereas it had seemed neutral to him (maybe) a moment ago. It’s hard to tell on such an odd face.

_“Aho,”_ Kappa’s beak clicks.

“Right,” The Guardian agrees, without knowing what he might be agreeing to, if anything, and rocks back against his staff. “Well, um, it is nice to meet you anyways. I should go.” Jack sticks out his free hand, wondering if that is at all proper etiquette for a Kappa, and waits.

After a very tense and awkward moment for Jack, the Kappa’s hand comes up. It’s webbed between long, knobbly green fingers with sharp looking claws at the ends, and when it touches Jack’s own pale skinned hand he can tell immediately that it was wet.

With a party-disturbing whistle, the Kappa yanks its hand back and clutches it to its body. There is suddenly and clearly frostbite on the creature’s green skin. Black spots like icy rot on wrinkled knuckles and palm, and a white glaze over Jack’s own hand. The Kappa is clearly in pain, and its black eyes narrow to dangerous looking slits, almost disappearing on its face. That beak is a lot more menacing when the creature it belongs to is hurt and angry.

Jack just looks at the creature in stunned silence for a moment, his jaw ajar. He doesn’t understand what just happened. He’d never hurt—yes, yes he had. Recently, too. Jamie’s face pops into Jack’s head, and Baby Tooth, and _What is going on?_

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, and Jack looks up quickly to see North. The party around them is silent, and everyone is again looking right at Jack. He wants to pull his hood up once more to block out the anger and the judgment and the suspicion, but North’s hand is over half of it.

“Jack, what happened? What did you do?” North asks, shaking a bit of his drunkenness away. The words ring hollow, words that doubt, echoing from a time not that long ago at all. Not long enough ago.

“I-I didn’t do anything,” Jack protests weakly. “I just touched it—I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone.” Bunny and Tooth and Sandman crowd nearby him, and it is Bunny’s questioning look (like he thought Jack _meant_ to) that is too much for the winter spirit. “I should go.”

“Jack—” Tooth tries to protest.

“No, no, it’s okay. Enjoy the rest of your party.” _Without me_. Jack dips under North’s hand, and spins around Bunny, who is watching him carefully, and Tooth and Sandman who look like they very much want to stop him, and up the fireplace, off the walls towards the window where the Basilisks body takes up most of the frame. Jack squeezes by the serpent, trying not to touch it, thin enough to manage, and jumps into a strong southern wind, calling into it to take him home. Away from everyone who doesn’t want him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments, your kudos, your attention! I am so grateful for every motion of encouragement


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bunny comes to comfort Jack, and they grow a little bit closer.

Jack lands at his pond silently, dropping from the sky onto the cold ice covering the water. He takes several deep breaths of cold air, feeling it sink into his body. Pain laces through his chest, and Jack groans to himself in frustration.

“Good job, Jack, your introduction to all of the Guardians’ friends and what do you do? You injure a green-thing from Japan. Swell job there. Ugh.” He takes himself off the ice, going to a tree off the bank and settling himself behind it, into a steep pile of snow, staff beside him, moving and shifting until his whole body is curled and practically buried and invisible, thinking that now would be a good time to be unseen.

Far above gold lines of sand crisscross the sky, lighting up the ice and snow below, but Jack doesn’t look up, he sits still, curling tighter, willing snow to fall over him, until he and his staff are completely covered. He remains that way for so long, long enough for the dreamsand to dissipate and stillness to fall over everything. Nothing but the barely perceptible _thud thump_ of snowflakes hitting the ground.

Of course, Jack thought he’d be alone all night, and he was wrong.

Somewhere around midnight there was a scratching, furrowing sound, and then the heavy crunch of feet on the snow. Jack groans quietly to himself.

“Frostbite! Hey, where’d ya go off to, ya bloody popscicle?” Bunny’s voice carried easily around the still air, and it is out of place in the cold, sounding as warm and alive as he does. And loud. Bunny doesn’t do whispering very well; or maybe he just doesn’t realize that in the cold and dark of a forest that whispering is universally accepted as appropriate, and preferred.

Don’t disturb the trees. Jack doesn’t move. Maybe Bunny will leave if he doesn’t. Though that seems unlikely, as the spirit can hear loud sniffing not far away.

Jack may not leave footprints behind, but he does have a trail that follows him, as does everyone else with a touch of magic, and the wind and snow he conjures are likely soaked with it.

“Hey, I know you’re here, don’t ya hide from me, or I’ll drag ya out kickin’ n’screaming if I have ta.”

Jack flinches, huffs, the ice thickened into a shell around his snowy cocoon cracking and falling open. He complies after a moment, unfolding nimbly from between his egg of ice, bringing the staff with him.

“Bunny,” He says lightly, moving around the tree to where the Pooka is staring expectantly and knowingly at him. Snow falls from Jack’s hair and clothes. “I didn’t even know you were there.”

“Ahuh. I came to find out why you left.” Bunny takes a large step so he closes more distance between him and Jack. The expression on his furry face is unreadable to the spirit, so Jack looks away instead. “This was North’s big party. He practically held it _for_ _you_ , mate, so why’d ya duck out after showing up so late?”

“For—for _me?_ ” Jack demands, looking up from the ground. “What do you mean _for me_? I didn’t even know it was happening! And I wouldn’t have if Baby Tooth hadn’t found me!”

  
Bunny considers him with narrowed eyes for a moment, thinking hard about everything, conclusions coming to him. Jack fidgets under Bunny’s contemplation, leaning against his staff.

“Ya don’t remember, do ya?”

Jack makes a frustrated sound, smacking a hand to his face. “Remember _what,_ Bunny? That I’m left out of the newsletter? I’ve been here! This whole time, I’ve been right here in Burgess! I only left to do my job but I’m _here_ the rest of the time! You could have found me and told me that I was supposed to be there!”

The Pooka waits for Jack’s words to stop and the young Guardian to calm a little before speaking.

“After the fight with Pitch and we all went back to North’s place, he said that New Years would be a celebration. That we’d have to do something special to commemorate havin’ a new Guardian. Were ya just not listenin’ to him?” Bunny demands. “Thinkin’ on how fast ya could come back to yer firsts?”

“No! No, that’s not it at all—”

“Then what is it, mate? Cuz North thinks ya bolted outta there cuz ya don’t like him! Or what he’s done fer ya!”

“I don’t remember that, okay?” Jack yells, breathing harder in confusion and hurt. Snow swirls around him angrily. “I remember you all talking in the sleigh while I watched Jamie get smaller and smaller and then getting back to the Pole and being so overwhelmed and—I remember everyone leaving! Tooth left for her Palace to rebuild and Sandy took off and you were gone without a word—and it was just me and North and I had no idea what to do!” Jack’s voice goes quiet and hoarse.

“He just smiled at me and told me to come any time, that he’d see me soon, and was gone, too. I thought I was going to being staying there, or—or, that one of you would tell me what to do next.” Wide blue eyes peek up at Bunny, who is hunched a little in the shoulders.It’s probably the cold, the centralizedblizzard forming around Jack.

“Frost—”

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to ruin the party. I—I was just… and I’ve gotten colder—”

“Wait, hold up there.What do ya mean, ‘Colder’?”

“I—I don’t know when or why—but I have—and when I touched it—”

“Hey! Easy, mate, easy.” Bunny interject sternly, hopping as few steps closer till he can make Jack look up at him, right in the eyes.Harshwinds buffer at his fur, shards of ice striking his fur andignored.“Explain ta me what ya mean.” Jack looks down, pauses a moment, and then sets his staff aside against a tree with a cold sigh.

“My hands, and my feet,” He holds up his hands, showing the frost covering them and the deep blue tint to his fingers. “They’ve started turning blue, and when I touched Jamie, and Baby Tooth, and that green thing—it hurt them.” He watches Bunny’s expression for blame, but the Pooka’s expression remains neutral, if a bit thoughtful.

“When did this start, Frostbite?”

“I don’t know. Sometime after Pitch.”

“Hm.” Bunny only grunts. “Sometime after ya started getting’ believed in, ya mean?”

“So far it’s only those kids, but yes.”

“Ya should’ve told us.”

“Excuse me for not knowing I had to report in.” Jack replies, wanting to pull his hand away while really not wanting to at all. Bunny gives him a withering look.

“Ya don’t. We go years without seeing each other. Sandy and Tooth haven’t been to a New Years party at North’s in decades. Or any of his other parties. We don’t write letters or use crystal balls ta see each other. Point is, mate, we don’t keep tabs on each other _unless something is wrong_. But yer a Guardian, mate,” Bunny pokes a stubby digit into Jack’s chest. “And if yer hurting people without tryin’ then ya need our help. Simple as that.”

Jack flinches, but looks up to Bunny from under his eyelashes. He’s met with a firm but not unkind expression, and a slight nod. Jack nods back, allowing a small quirking of his lips upward. Around him the wind cuts out almost completely, its load of snow and ice falling to the ground around them.

“Ya good now?” Bunny asks, thumping his back.

“Ow. Well, my back’s broken now…”

Bunny rolls his eyes. “Buck up, will ya? I barely touched ya.” Jack chuckles, a bit of a smile tugging at his lips. “So,” The Pooka settles himself on his haunches, arms tight around himself to ward off some of the cold sinking in now that there is a calmer feeling around them. “Tell me what’s been happenin’.”

Jack shakes his head. “I don’t really know. All of a sudden when I touch someone it hurts them. My hands,” He sets aside his staff and holds them up for Bunny to see. “They’re turning blue, my fingers. And the frost is always there now.” He brushes some of it off his left hand to show Bunny just how blue his fingertips have gone. The color has spread in a purplish, dark blue hue to the second knuckle. It looks like bruises to Jack.  
Jack flinches when Bunny’s paws come up, one grabbing his wrist around the sleeve and a claw is revealed from his other paw to drag through the already re-forming layer of frost on his hand. It doesn’t hurt with how gentle the other Guardian is being, but Jack flinches all the same, waiting for it to hurt Bunny. So far the Pooka seems unaffected. Jack doesn’t know why, but he’s grateful.

“I think I gave that turtle frostbite.. and Baby Tooth barely touched me, and—” Jack looks at the ground resolutely, his voice thin and tinny, as if he might cry. “I hurt Jamie.”

“Mate—”

“He barely touched me before it hurt. It’s worse than not being seen.” Jack dropsto the ground,pulls his knees up and drops his head to them.

“Hey, buck up ya sad sack. It’ll be alright. After North clears out the party we’ll go back there an’ get ya sorted out, okay? Don’t fret none, we’ll help ya.” Jack raises his head enough to meet eyes gratefully with the Pooka’s own.

“Thanks, Bunny.” Jack’s given an encouraging smile.

They sit in silence for a several minutes,. Snow falls around them, piling high on rocks and trees and falling off branches in heaps. Occasionally Bunny shakes himself, letting the build up loose to fall around him. He’s shivering,through the ears and all the way down to his tail, though he resolutely says nothing about it; Jack can’t stand it anymore.

“You should go back to the party.”

“No, mate, I should really stay right here.”

Jack’s brow furrows and his heart thumps quick and loud in his chest. “Why? You’re obviously cold.”

Bunny casts him an incredulous look. “So? I ain’t leavin’ until yer okay. No one’s gunna miss me up there.” They hold eye contact; Bunny, patiently waiting for Jack to relax and give-in, and the frost spirit waiting for Bunny to become frustrated and give up. In the end, it is Jack who looks away first—if only to hide how his face blooms with a layer of white.

“You’re gunna get sick.” Is his final, petulant warning.

“If I get sick yer just gunna have to come paint eggs for me at the Warren till I’m better.”

Jack smiles, just a little, and the snow around them lets up a tad. “You’d let me paint your precious eggs, huh? They wouldn’t be _hard-boiled_ anymore; they’d frozen solid.”

Bunny shrugs, wriggling his nose to free it gathered snow. “Better’n rotten I suppose.”

Jack looks up at the sky, blinking as soft snowflakes land on his face. His tongue darts out for a taste. As usual, the cold doesn’t register, just the flavor of clean, pure water and a little bit of life.

“I’d really like that. To paint some eggs.”

Bunny’s reply comes with a short laugh and a light warning. “I’ll remember that come Easter. You better not be plannin’ another one o’yer blizzards.”

Jack is flooded with happiness at the thought of spending Easter with Bunny. It almost steals his breath how much he has wanted something like that to look forward to. 

“Not this year, I promise.” Jack chuckles softly. Bunny thumps his back again with a satisfied nod. Jack huffs, but he doesn’t retaliate, content with the contact and Bunny’s presence. They don’t speak for another long while. The dreamsand above them is long gone, and the quarter moon is on its way to setting.

“Sorry mate,” Bunny intrudes on the quiet eventually. “I’m a right bit too cold ta stay out any longer.” The Pooka stands, rubbing his arms, ears twitching. “Gunna be alright?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll see you around,” Jack replies with a smile that is more genuine than it is forced.

“Good onya.” Bunny approves, tapping the ground three times with a long foot. A tunnel opens for him, and with a hop the Guardian is gone. Jack is alone again in the woods by his pond.

“Bye,” Jack whispers to nothing, folding back up and resting his head in his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much everyone! I am most grateful for your views and comments and kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all readers. If you wander here from Tumblr, the Kink Meme, or by perusing AO3, I appreciate your views, and comments if you will. <3


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